A vague impression as of something pleasant warmed
his blood. It was a rare thing for him to be so stirred, but
even then it was not sufficient to disturb the focus of his
thoughts.
"Tell me," she demanded, "what do you do? What is your
profession or work?"
"I am with a firm of auctioneers and estate agents," he answered
readily,--"Messrs. Dowling, Spence & Company the name is. Our
offices are in Waterloo Place."
"You find it interesting?"
"Of course," he answered. "Interesting? Why not? I work at
it."
"Are you a partner?"
"No," he admitted. "Six years ago I was a carpenter; then I
became an errand boy in Mr. Dowling's office I had to learn the
business, you see. To-day I am a sort of manager. In eighteen
months' time--perhaps before that if they do not offer me a
partnership--I shall start for myself."
Once more the subtlest of smiles flickered at the corners of her
lips.
"Do they know yet?" she asked, with faint irony.
"Not yet," he replied, with absolute seriousness. "They might
tell me to go, and I have a few things to learn yet. I would
rather make experiments for some one else than for myself. I can
use the results later; they will help me to make money."
She laughed softly and wiped the tears out of her eyes. They
were really very beautiful eyes notwithstanding the dark rims
encircling them.
"If only I had met you before!" she murmured.
"Why?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"Don't ask me," she begged.
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